Page 188 of Even Exchange

“For you to stay!” he admits, tone laced with frustration.

“You do?”

“Of course I do.”

“But why?” I put a hand on my stomach. “Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t let my mistake ruin your life.”

“Ruin my life?” He laughs sarcastically. “Do you hear yourself?” He shakes his head. “You want to know why I’m doing this? Why I won’t let you run away and deal with this on your own like you keep trying to? Because the idea of you not being in my arms, and this baby being anywhere other than this house, makes me sick to my stomach.”

My heart aches at the pain he’s enduring for me. For us. “You don’t deserve that.”

“I don’t deserve love and a family?!” he shoots back, a tear rolling down his face.

“Of course you do. But you don’t deserve to be sick to your stomach over a baby that’s not evenyours!”

He hooks an arm around my waist, tugging me to him, and splays his fingers over my stomach. “Do you wish she was mine?”

“Of course I do!” I say through a half-sob.

“Then let her be mine.”

“Noah.” Placing my hand on his, I stare into his eyes. “I’d wish on every dandelion in the world to make that happen. But nothing will change the fact she’snot.”

“Let. Her. Be. Mine.” His fingers cling to my stomach protectively. “Stop fighting this. Stop fighting us. Screw genetics.Sheis mine.Youare mine. And if anyone doesn’t agree, then fuck them.”

I shake my head. “No one wouldchoosethis life.”

“I would,” he says, exasperated, then releases a shaky breath. “I am… if you’ll let me.”

“Just like that?” I ask hesitantly.

“Just like that,” he says with a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

For months we’ve been twin suns, dancing around one another in a celestial waltz. Noah has endlessly proven his devotion to me and this baby, desperately waiting for me to stop fighting his gravitational pull. I will never, ever be able to repay him for what he’s done for us. What he continues to do. But Icanstop saying shitty, hurtful things and letting my trauma get in the way of our happiness. Sliding a hand around his neck, I crash my lips to his.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he murmurs as the cosmic kiss fuses us as one.

He’s so steady. So sure. So absolutely in control that I almost believe him.

* * *

“See you in a few weeks,” I tell Denny and Nash, giving them each a squeeze on our front porch. They head towards Mom’s Porsche, and she stands before me, perfectly poised with pursed lips. Usually Patricia shuttles them, which means she wants something.

“It seems everything went well with the twins,” she says the moment they’re out of earshot.

“Does that mean you’ll stop pushing me to give up the baby?” I ask, knowing it was never an option for me. After Noah’s declaration this week, I’m more sure than ever of what our future looks like. Her judgmental gaze drops to my now noticeable bump.

“I can see you won’t go for that,” she says, cold eyes returning to mine. This look would usually have me caving in on myself. But I’m a mother now too. I’m not afraid of her threats. I have someone else to think about. “But let’s discuss returning access to your trust fund.”

“What?” That catches my attention. After my breakdown earlier this week, I wanted nothing more than to have that money. I’d never stress about a stupid grocery bill ever again. Baby and I would never have to worry Noah will come to his senses, realize how coo-coo bananas this all is, and kick us out.

Let. Her. Be. Mine.

But I have faith he won’t.

“With conditions, of course,” she adds.

Of course.

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